


may the bridges I have burned light my way back home

by mozarteel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, ygoshipolympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 17:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4675307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozarteel/pseuds/mozarteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Sometimes goodbyes are just new beginnings.)</p>
<p>The night before Shun has to leave Standard, Yuuya invites him to go stargazing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	may the bridges I have burned light my way back home

**Author's Note:**

> here we are, finally, at the end of this long and (sometimes) distressing competition
> 
> for [ygoshipolympics](http://ygoshipolympics.dreamwidth.org/3970.html) round 5, [prompt: regrets + challenge: promises]

After the battle, after the war and the enemy’s fall, come the goodbyes.

Shun knew this would happen, that he would have to return to his dimension since the first day he arrived in Standard. Expected it, in fact. It’s one of the reasons he refused to interact more than necessary with these people in the beginning – why bother, when he’ll just leave in the end? Why bother with making friends, when he has more important things to focus on?

Like his sister, safe and sound in the room they’ve provided her with, right beside his own in the LDS building. Like his city, burnt and razed to the ground – but not anymore, now that Academia has been stopped, now that the war is finally, _finally_ over.

The interdimensional travelling devices – now hidden in a heavily-guarded warehouse somewhere only Akaba Reiji knows about – are too dangerous to be left alone, their potential to be misused in the wrong hands too powerful. They still need to use them to send him and Ruri back, but after that, well, who knows? He certainly won't be around to see what they’ll decide to do with the devices. Shun only hopes that Reiji has the mind to destroy those wretched things after he’s left.

He moves, walks aimlessly around the city, observing it one last time, storing the images in his memories. He considers this strange city – too big, too unknown when he first arrived – he’s come to appreciate like a second home. Thinks of unlikely friendships – and isn’t that a wonder, how these people slowly seeped between the cracks hiding his heart, chipped away at the ice there, reluctantly pulling out the _warmth_ he’d hidden for so long – of bonds and companionship. Thinks about how he’s going to leave this, leave them all, very soon.

It’s a bittersweet feeling.

 

* * *

 

The last night before Shun leaves, Yuuya invites him to go stargazing on the edge of the city.

He almost refuses, thinking back to how cold he was towards the boy at the beginning, all those passive-aggressive jabs at Yuuya that he can’t take back. It would be awkward, he thinks, no matter how much he wants to spend one last time with him.

Ruri takes the decision off his hands. “If you don’t go,” she says, rolling her eyes at his stubbornness, but her voice understanding, “I think you’ll regret it.”

He goes. Doesn't reply to his sister’s comment, doesn’t say the words they’re both thinking: that she’s right.

 

* * *

 

The stars are brighter here, on this grassy field, so far away from the bustling city lights.

Shun has never been that much into stars; that’s more of Ruri’s forte. Briefly, he’s reminded of a boy in his class, before the invasion and the war, who loved the stars, could name each and every constellation in the night sky. Shun wonders what happened to that boy. If he’s still somewhere in Heartland, gazing at the stars, eyes shining with hope, never giving up.

Yuuya’s already there, sitting on a worn blanket spread on the ground, his back facing Shun. He doesn’t seem to be aware of Shun ambling towards him, too focused on counting the stars.

“Hey,” Shun begins, going for nonchalance, appearing behind him. Yuuya jumps a bit, twists his body so that he’s facing Shun. He beams, as brilliant and blinding as the moonlight, and just as lovely.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t show up.”

Shun twists his mouth into a smirk, shoves his hands into his coat pockets to hide his nervousness.

Up until now, he’s never quite sure what to make of Yuuya.

Someone whom he’d like to call a friend, obviously, despite their rocky start. Someone whom he trusts to watch his back. Someone important to him. All the people who’re close to him are important, in his heart. And yet, he finds himself unable to classify Yuuya into a category.

_He’s a friend_ , Shun declares inside his mind, _and a worthy companion._

_Something more, too?_

He doesn’t know the answer to that question, so he replies to Yuuya’s words instead.

“Of course I would.” Doesn’t mention that he almost didn’t, if not for Ruri’s intervention. He’s pretty sure Yuuya knows this, and yet he remains silent, still looking at Shun with wonder in his eyes. He pats the empty space right next to him on the blanket, an invitation, and Shun goes to sit down beside him.

It’s quiet between them. Peaceful.

Until Yuuya sneezes, the sound high and clear in the darkness. Shun blinks, watches as Yuuya rubs sheepishly at his nose, mutters an awkward apology.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A bit.”

Yuuya tries to wave it off, but Shun can see his skin prickling with goosebumps, can hear his teeth chattering from being exposed to the cold night. He wants to say _that’s what you get for thinking you can wear that thin jacket all the time_ or _you should take better care of yourself, I won’t be here to watch over you after this_ , but what comes out of his mouth is “Come here.”

Yuuya shoots him a confused look, but Shun has already removed his long coat, places it around Yuuya’s shoulders. The boy splutters, tries to refuse, making excuses about how Shun needs the coat more than he does, but Shun remains firm. Reluctantly, Yuuya accepts the offering, but not before dragging himself closer towards Shun, extending one half of the coat around Shun’s shoulder and wrapping them both in warm clothing.

Shun fumbles, tries to push Yuuya away, but the other boy wraps an arm around his waist, refuses to budge. Shun jerks at the contact, unusual but not unwelcomed. Eventually, he settles down, sighing in defeat; beside him, Yuuya doesn’t try very hard to hide a cheeky smile, his lips twitching with mirth. He can almost hear Yuuya cheering in victory.

The arm around his waist remains unmoving. Just like the rest of Yuuya, Shun doesn’t know what to make of it.

He grumbles, “Let’s just watch the damn stars.”

Yuuya bursts into giggles, as if Shun has just said something hilarious, which he hasn’t. Shun scowls, and Yuuya seems to think this is even funnier, because the giggles turn into outright laughter.

“Sorry, sorry–” Yuuya gasps between wheezes. “It’s just, this is the first time I’ve seen someone looking so serious while stargazing. You look like you’re on a mission, or something.”

But he relents, starts talking about stars and constellations, about the facts and myths surrounding them.

“That’s Polaris,” Yuuya points towards a twinkling light high above the sky. “They call it the North Star, because it always points north, so that it can lead sailors home.”

Shun hums, follows the direction of Yuuya’s hand gesturing towards a star standing high on the horizon. He thinks something might happen, with Yuuya so close, body warm and soft against his shoulder, star-bright eyes tracking the motions of the sky, speaking fondly of late nights as a child, chasing after stars as if he could catch them in his hands, if he reached high enough. He thinks he could just lean closer, until there’s no space between them, and Yuuya would let him. He wonders what would happen, if he did.

Yuuya laughs, and he imagines swallowing that laughter with soft kisses, with his lips and tongue. He imagines keeping this moment, forever, in his memory. Yuuya turns his head to the side then to ask him a question, but catches Shun’s eye instead; the words die in his mouth and he smiles at Shun, eyes impossibly fond, his face growing closer to Shun’s own, his breath warm against Shun’s skin.

Shun thinks something might happen, could happen right now.

He doesn’t go in for a kiss.

“Tell me another story,” he says instead, voice turning softer than he thought imaginable. Yuuya blinks, flustered, inching away from him in embarrassment. He wants to say _no, come back_. He wants to ask Yuuya to stay. He wants to stay, for Yuuya.

He remains silent, listening as Yuuya launches into another anecdote about his childhood.

It’s not until he feels Yuuya’s hand on his shoulder that he realises he’s dozed off somewhere in the middle of the story, head resting peacefully on Yuuya’s chest. They’re both lying down on the ground now, instead of sitting close to each other. He lifts his head, trying to move away, but a soothing caress along his spine stills him. Yuuya’s hand, gentle and warm, rubbing small circles on his back, the gesture comforting, pulling him back to slumber.

He closes his eyes and falls asleep, lulled by the sound of chirping crickets and Yuuya’s heartbeat, by the sight of a million starlights.

 

* * *

 

And awakens to an unfamiliar ceiling in an unfamiliar house.

He blinks, trying to get rid of the sleepiness still hanging in the corners of his eyes; mind alert, gaze sharp. There is a creak, the sound of a door opening, and he stiffens, preparing himself for an enemy attack.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Yuuya starts, startled but pleased. “Um, you fell asleep on me last night, so I took us back to my house. I hope you don’t mind.”

Shun raises an eyebrow at that, surprised at Yuuya’s strength hidden underneath his small frame. Then again, he _is_ all muscle mass, and an entertainment duelist to boot. He must keep himself fit, to be able to do all those wild and almost impossible stunts for his routine.

He rises, aware that someone – Yuuya, most probably – removed his coat the previous night. Stretches, notices the way Yuuya’s gaze follows the length of his body, focusing on the small triangle of exposed skin where his shirt lifts up due to the movement. He pauses, catches Yuuya’s eye when the other boy lifts his gaze away from Shun’s stomach, possibly sensing that he’s being watched. Yuuya’s face is the colour of burning scarlet, he notes.

Something hits him at that moment. A realisation. It feels like one of Yuuto’s punches.

Shun parts his lips, about to ask a question, because he’s never noticed this before during all their time together. Attraction, from Yuuya, is like the arm around his waist last night. Strange, but not unwelcome. Of course he’s honoured, happy even, that someone finds him attractive. But he also wants to know how this will affect their friendship, how long this has been going on without him noticing. And yet–

_You’re leaving for your dimension today_ , a voice whispers in his mind. _You won’t see him again after this. It would be cruel, to both of you, to mention this._

He remains silent, simply watching the other boy. After what feels like forever, Yuuya blurts out, “There’s breakfast downstairs,” and all but runs out of the room.

Shun thinks he should’ve at least said something to assure Yuuya that he’s fine with it, with Yuuya’s attraction, but the moment between them has passed. Instead, he silently trudges down the stairs where Yuuya and Mrs. Sakaki are waiting, only now realising that he’s been sleeping in Yuuya’s room.

Yuuya smiles at him, and Shun’s glad to note that at least it’s his genuine smile. Nothing to indicate that he’s hurt about what just occurred in the room upstairs. Perhaps he understands that Shun requires time to gather his thoughts.

Breakfast is a simple affair, but there is a sombre mood to it. Quiet, and he has a feeling that this isn’t how it usually goes in the Sakaki household. There is an atmosphere to the house, warm and kind, that reminds him of Yuuya, and of his own home, long gone due to the invasion.

And then it’s time. Yuuya’s mom pats him on the cheek before they leave, decides it’s not enough, and pulls him into a fierce hug. It’s tight enough to leave him gasping for air, before Yuuya pulls at her elbow and tells her to _stop it, Mom, you’re choking him!_

He doesn’t really mind, though. There’s an air of warmth around her that reminds him of her son, and of his own mother, dead and buried. It’s nice. He hasn’t been hugged in a long time.

Their journey to the LDS headquarters is silent and solemn, almost like a funeral procession. Shun chews on the corner of his lips, an old habit when he’s stressed or worried, but finds that he’s unable to find words to offer the boy walking beside him.

The subject of Yuuya’s attraction hangs in the air between them, a heavy topic that accompanies them all the way to their destination.

 

* * *

 

When they arrive, everyone is already there, waiting for them. He turns to face Yuuya, hating this tension between them, wanting to speak, to say anything, to break the silence.

Shun wants to say _I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same_ or _it’s better this way_ or _you’d find someone better than me_ , wants to offer apologies and consolations, but those are lies, aren't they? He thinks about last night, when Yuuya was so close, close enough to kiss; thinks about that moment where he believed he would lean into the space between them to press their lips together. He thinks about wanting to stay for Yuuya, and finds his answer.

_Oh, that’s what this feeling is, isn’t it?_

Reiji is fiddling with the machine that will generate the portal, greets them with a nod when he sees them arriving. “It’ll be ready in five minutes,” he announces, more to the general vicinity than to Shun alone.

Five minutes. It’s enough, for one last goodbye.

“Yuuya,” he says, aiming for gentleness in his voice. It’s not something he’s used to, not after Academia and the dust of his shattered childhood. “I’ve always loved that smile of yours.” But no, that’s not quite true, is it? He used to hate Yuuya, in the beginning, despised everything about the boy, including his smiles. Yuuya knows it too, from how Shun used to act around him. He shakes his head a bit, chastising himself. “No,” he continues, “sorry, that’s not really what I meant to say.”

So he tries again. Steps closer, pulls the other boy into a warm embrace. “Yuuya,” he begins, “never forget your smile. I’ll always–” He chokes, swallows down the bitter feeling gathering in his throat. He’s aware that the others are watching them, but he doesn’t care. Let them think whatever they want about this.

“I’ll always love you,” Shun whispers. Leans down to bury his face into the crook of Yuuya’s neck, hears the other boy inhale sharply as Shun finally admits to a deep secret he thinks he should’ve been aware of a very long time ago.

Shun wants, wants so much to caress his cheek, gaze into his eyes. To memorise every single one of his expressions, to etch the sound of Yuuya’s laughter into his mind. He wants to know what Yuuya would look like if he pressed a kiss to his lips. Wants to feel his lips against his own. But he _can’t_.

He doesn’t have enough time, can’t give Yuuya what he desires. In a few moments he will be gone from this world. Simply disappear, living only as a memory in the minds of people who knew him. As if Kurosaki Shun is nothing more than melting snow in the beginnings of spring.

So he doesn’t, doesn’t press his lips to Yuuya’s, steps away from the boy, and Yuuya looks at him with such _pain_ – heartbroken, devastated – on his face that Shun has to turn away.

He can’t give Yuuya what he deserves, and it’s better this way. He turns his back to Yuuya and walks away. Walks to the machine they’ve prepared for his and Ruri’s journey home, to their own dimension. Doesn’t glance back, doesn’t want to see Yuuya’s face anymore.

Five minutes. It’s enough.

Reiji switches the machine on, and electricity buzzes, creating sparks around them before a portal appears. One that will lead him and his sister home, away from this place. Away from –

As if she’s aware of his thoughts, Ruri appears beside him. Brushes her smaller – but no less rough – hand against his, a solid foundation of support, as she’s always been.

He hears someone calling his name, a familiar voice. Despite vowing that he wouldn’t do it, turns around, one last time.

“This isn’t the end,” Yuuya swears, promises from where he’s standing, and Shun can only see the strength of Yuuya’s conviction blazing in his eyes. “I promise, we’ll see each other again. I’ll find a way so that we can see each other again.”

He promises himself that he won’t cry. He doesn’t want Yuuya’s last memory of him to be his tears.

So Shun smiles, tilts his head, reaches towards Yuuya, as if he could take the offered hand and link their fingers together, as if he could touch him one last time.

Could, should, would. It won’t mean anything anymore, not after this.

And then he steps into the portal, one last time, with a sister by his side again but missing a best friend, with his city returned to him but losing a more precious thing, in the end. He grabs Ruri’s hand, one more time, and goes back to the beginning (to the end).

No, not the end. Yuuya promised him, didn’t he?

Only after they step out of the portal to a – renewed, healing – _living_ Heartland, among cheers and shouts of joy he hears echoing across the city at their regained freedom, does he realise that his face is wet. That there are tears running down his cheeks.

_Farewell, Yuuya_ , he thinks. _I hope we’ll meet again._

Ruri squeezes his hand and doesn’t try to assure him that everything will work out alright. But the gesture alone is enough; the fact that she’s the one doing it is comforting to him.

They will be fine. After all, it’s not an ending. It’s a new beginning.

 

* * *

 

“Do you have any regrets?” 

Ruri asks him this, one late night, when they’re both too wired – nerves pulling taut, echoes of battles past resonating in their ears – to go to sleep. Shun is quiet, ponders the question in his mind, before taking a swig of the warm, dark coffee she prepares for them both, when she finds Shun staring at the shadowy corners in their living room instead of slumbering in his bed.

Regret? There are many things that Shun regrets in his short life. The empty space between them – where there were once three but now only two remain – screams at him all the time, reminding him of one of his many failures. Other things, too. Tasks he failed to accomplish, people he couldn’t save. These things grate at him, haunt his thoughts and dreams.

He doesn’t regret travelling across dimensions to find her, doesn’t regret meeting the Lancers. He doesn’t regret knowing Yuuya, even though he wishes they could’ve started on better terms.

_I don’t regret_ , he decides, assures himself that the bitterness in his mouth is coming from the rapidly-cooling drink in his hand, _not kissing him, that last time_.

He shakes his head, looks at her directly in the eyes, and says, “No, I don’t regret anything.”

If Ruri thinks he’s an absolute fool, knows that he’s lying through his teeth, at least she’s kind enough not to say it to his face.

 

* * *

 

Heartland is beautiful at night.

The bustling city lights shine, bouncing off reflective surfaces all around the city, causing everything to glow and sparkle like crystals, like fireworks. Shadows flicker and fall between spaces, concealing the fallen building blocks, the age-old damage, the cranes and construction sites. It helps people to forget the war, even if only for a while. Shun climbs up to the roof of their newly-rebuilt house via his bedroom window, and watches the stars – so dazzling, this far away from the brightness of the city – scattered across the night sky.

Softly yet surely, the city is rebuilding itself, returning back to how it was in his decade-old memories.

The stars are beautiful tonight. Lovelier, somehow. He wonder if it’s because they too have seen Heartland’s suffering, and are trying to help, to provide small bits of happiness and peace to this city, in their mysterious ways. When he was younger and Ruri was but a baby, his father used to talk about the tales of the star-people, souls of the dead who watch over the living, providing protection to their loved ones.

He wonders if their parents can see them, right now. Shakes his head, because it’s only a bedtime story, and Shun’s too old to believe in them anymore.

And then, he sees it. Polaris, the North Star, the one that guides lost travellers home.

He wonders if the star is as bright in Yuuya’s world as it is in this one. Tries to compare it with the one he saw, that last night with Yuuya. He wonders if Yuuya is seeing the exact same star as he is, right now. Two people separated by worlds, connected by a single lone light.

_We’ll meet again_. He runs those words through his mind once more, keeps them as a mantra tucked closely to his heart.

He falls asleep on the roof under a million starlights, with the memory of Yuuya’s heartbeat in his ears. Thinks of hope, of happiness. Of Yuuya’s face, that last night, soft and open, a warm hand on Shun’s shoulder.

It’s comforting enough.

**Author's Note:**

> and lastly, a HUGE shout-out to all the members of team sparrow Y'ALL ROCK SO SO MUCH AND I'VE HAD SO MUCH FUN BEING IN THIS TEAM WITH EVERYONE AND JUST *thumbs up*


End file.
